Surround yourself with light
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: "She thinks she should feel lighter now, but it's still there, the weight of things unsaid, present but existing in an altered form." Angst, and fluff, and sexytiems, oh my. STILL Post-Ep. Oh yes, there will be spoilers.


Kate's body slumps against his the moment he opens the door to the loft, her legs reluctant to hold her up any longer. Despite her exhaustion, the pain shooting through her tired muscles, it isn't graceless, isn't spiritless and uncontrolled. Her arm around his waist, her own defiance, and admittedly his arm around her back clutching at her shoulder, all keep her from sinking down to her knees on his hardwood floors.

"Whoa, I got you," Castle murmurs, his other arm wrapping around her front, supporting her. "Legs give out?"

She yields, for a moment, allowing him to take a little more of her weight, and nods against his chest, her cheek brushing his shirt. Summoning strength, holding tight to her own stubborn determination, she pulls herself back up to full height, ignoring her tight muscles, the pain in her knees, pushing through it all just to get to his couch unaided.

But he doesn't let her go. One arm stays around her shoulders, the other rests on her stomach, and he walks with her, small, slow, steps, to wherever she thinks she needs to be. He moves with her, through the quiet living-room, past the couch she doesn't even shift her gaze to, to the study beyond.

It's late afternoon, the sun sinking behind skyscrapers, becoming lost to the marvelous skyline; the empty home is quiet, the interior dusky, and it all threatens to subdue her, this lack of light, this dim, sepulcher-like atmosphere. When Death's skeletal hand is so close to making contact, the shadows linger long after the bomb has been defused.

While hiding her pain from her friends, smiling around forkfuls of Chinese food as she plowed through paperwork surrounded by warmth, by camaraderie and love, she hadn't had the fight left in her to argue when Gates had ordered her home, silently thankful for the reprieve. It hurt too much to grit her teeth and carry on; she couldn't hide this limp any longer, couldn't hide the darkness consuming her.

They had both come too close this time…

Kate drops down on the small couch in his study, her hands curled tight beside her knees, gripping the edge of the couch, clenching her fists as pain shoots up and down her legs.

She bends at her waist after Castle has quietly left the room, and starts working on her boots, occupied only on getting them off her swollen feet as quickly as possible. She tugs them off, and kicks them unceremoniously to the side; she throws them a glare as she straightens up and sinks back, silently vowing to never wear them again. A gentle buzz against her thigh, from a phone she had switched to silent after leaving the precinct, elicits a sigh from her parted lips. She drags it out of the tight pocket, her stomach clenching as she reads the display.

She hits accept, and brings the phone to her ear with a slight tremor in her arm. "Hi, Dad." Her steady tone belies her current unease, momentarily disguising the apprehension she feels.

"Katie? You okay?"

She brings her hair to the side and eases the long, curled strands out of the ponytail. She's anxious, nervously playing with her hair, needing to do_ something_ with her free hand. "I'm doing good." Her heart thumps erratically in her chest as she lies to her father.

There's a pause that stretches just a little too long, and she knows he is deciphering her words, her tone. "Long day?"

"Yeah," she chuckles ruefully, shaking her head at how flippant her tone is as she replies. "You could say that."

"How's Rick?" The question is hesitant, concern filling her father's voice.

"He's good, Dad." _He's alive_.

"You two still... okay?"

"We are," she promises. "We're... perfect." Maybe they're not, truly perfect, maybe there are conversations they're afraid to have, maybe there are still stubborn doubts niggling at the back of her mind, in her heart. The happiness, the moments when laughter bubbles up from within and spills out, drowning them both in love, those moments of stillness, curled up against him, warm, secure, safe - In those moments, this feels like perfection.

"Okay. Good." He pauses, and she can almost hear his smile. "Good."

She hears Castle stepping up behind her, and turns to smile at him. "Castle says hi, Dad."

Jim chuckles. "Still seeing you two kids tomorrow night for dinner?"

Kate smiles. "Of course." She accepts the glass of water, but shakes her head at the painkillers he holds out to her. "See you then."

"You sure you're okay, Katie?"

His concern tugs painfully at her heart, but she had been expecting this phone call. It's not every day she leaves messages of love on her father's voice mail, after all. "We'll talk tomorrow night, Dad. But I promise, I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"Okay." There's a beat, before, "I love you, Katie."

"Love you, Dad." She ends the call, and downs the glass the water, knocking it back like it's something harder.

"You okay?" Castle asks, sitting beside her, his eyes straining to study her in the ever darkening room.

She swallows, and hands the glass back to him. He places it on the small table beside the couch and turns back to her. "Yeah," she lies. "Dinner with my dad tomorrow."

"I look forward to it."

Kate smiles, because she knows it's true, and that means more to her than she has ever admitted to him. And that's just another reminder of how much she keeps from him...

"You sure about the pain? It's not too bad?"

"Yeah," she promises. "I just need to stretch the muscles out. I'll be fine."

He eyes her in concern for a moment, before nodding, and placing the bottle of pills on the table beside him, next to the water. Just in case...

He gestures for her to spin, and pats his thighs. "Legs. Here."

She laughs softly at him, her mood beginning to improve, his fussing lifting the dark clouds hanging above her. "You're sweet, Castle."

"Shhhh," he hushes her, looking around dramatically. "Someone might overhear."

"I think that secret's already out," she replies in a low tone, love filling her heart at the feigned shock playing on his features.

"I think you might be right." He grins at her, patting his thighs again. "Legs. Now."

She twists her body to him and swings her legs around carefully. Her movements are stiff, resistant, but stretching her long legs out over Castle's thighs, her heels on the armrest, offers some relief. With a low groan, she stretches the muscles out, flexing her toes, and rolling her ankles. The shift in position offers some relief, tension drains from the afflicted muscles and tendons - and his hands, hovering above her knees haven't even touched her yet.

He's about to lower his hands, when he stops, and shakes his head. "Nope, sorry. This isn't going to work."

Kate blinks at him. "Oh?"

"Your pants are going to have to come off." Castle nods to himself, a pragmatic smile playing on his lips.

Kate sighs softly. "But I _just _got comfortable," she reminds him, unable to keep the slight whine from her tone.

Castle's hands move up her thighs, to the dome of her jeans. "I can help."

Kate bats his hand away. "I'm sure you can." She rolls her eyes at him. "I can manage on my own." She turns again, swinging her legs back, planting her feet on the floor – _oh and there's that burn again _- and extends a hand. "You wanna help? Help me up."

He's on his feet quickly, helping her up, with her hand clasped securely in his. He threads their fingers, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her longer than necessary when she's already on her feet. With a gentle hand to his chest, Kate gives him a light shove. "Castle, my sleeping clothes?" It's early still, too early to even consider sleeping, but the shorts are comfortable, and she has no plans to head out again tonight.

He's disappointed for a moment, to not have her draped over him in just her panties, but he can work with the shorts, her long, bare legs. He leaves her standing, working on her jeans, and disappears into the bedroom to retrieve her shorts and shirt from the bedside drawer. _Her_ drawer, _her_ side of the bed, _their_ room. _She loves him_. His heart swells, and he stands motionless for a moment, her clothes in his hands, the soft material against his fingers, the words sending a wave of relief washing over him, cleansing him of lingering doubts. He had waited so long to hear her speak those words.

Kate works the jeans from her hips, peeling the tight denim down her legs, sitting to free her feet from them. She slips her thin socks off, and starts on her top. The crazy day sloughs away with each item of clothing she is freed from.

Castle's eyes are roaming up and down her toned frame as he makes his way back to her, shorts and shirt in his hands. He hands her the clothing, and then collects her jeans, her shoes, everything she has peeled from her body, and takes them to their bedroom, placing them neatly on the chair beside her side of the bed. When he returns she is in her sleeping clothes, sitting quietly, smiling at him.

"I take it back," she tells him softly, her voice wavering under the strain of just how differently the day could have ended. "Today was the scariest."

Castle expels a long sigh and sits beside her. "Officially the scariest," he agrees. "Kate..."And then he's lost for words; how does he articulate just how close he came to losing her, how that would have changed him, how he might never have recovered? Unable – unwilling – to voice it, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her side to his, until her head rests on his shoulder. He drops a soft kiss, a mere brush of lips upon skin, to her hairline, and breathes her in.

She lifts her head and smiles at him, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss, because she knows how he feels, knows how difficult it is to speak of what they went through, to communicate those emotions.

She thinks she should feel lighter now, but it's still there, the weight of things unsaid, present but existing in an altered form. It took almost falling to her death to grace her with the courage to go to him, kiss him, open her heart to him - the courage to tear that wall down. Now, again, another brush with death, and the words finally left her lips. Words stuck on the tip of her tongue for months, words she had been stubbornly suppressing while she tore his own wall down. So many nights spent with him, his warmth curled around her, his arms holding her. So many nights she heard the words sing out in her heart. _Love you. I love you._ So many moments of calm missed. Passed by. Because she hushed her heart, promised herself just one more day. _One more day. Maybe tomorrow. _Until she had almost run out of days. She had opened her heart, opened her mouth, shared with him the secret she had been keeping - but she doesn't feel lighter now.

"You okay?" He asks, his tone subdued, his eyes studying her. He brushes his hand along her bare shoulder, and squeezes gently.

Kate blinks it away, and smiles. "Processing," she replies.

His hand slips from her shoulder, trailing across her upper back, and he stands. "I'll put a DVD on, and then we'll work on those legs of yours," he promises.

"Something light," she pleads. The light is fading quickly, but it's losing its desolation; the darkness no longer feels like it's closing in around her, her mood less saturnine. Because of him. She is alive, with just a few tired, tight muscles, and she is more thankful than she could ever express with words. She wouldn't be here was it not for him.

"I can do that."

Kate sinks against the end of the couch, placing a cushion behind her back and the armrest, and stretches her long, aching legs along the length of the couch. She watches as he opens the DVD case, the front cover aimed in her direction. "Oh, Castle," she sighs. "Tell me you're joking."

"What?" He asks, glancing down at the DVD in his hands. "It's a comedy."

"Comedy-horror, you mean."

"Hey, it's a good reminder that no matter how bad things were today, they could have been worse."

"Zombies and the end of the world?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"Exactly."

She shakes her head, laughing softly at him. "How many times have you seen _Cabin in the Woods_ now, anyway?"

He avoids the question, and focuses his attention on the home menu on the screen. Kate throws a cushion at the back of his head, and laughs mirthfully at him. "You're hopeless."

He picks the cushion up, and turns to her, grinning. "But you love me anyway."

She scrunches up her nose at him. They both know she can't deny it anymore. "Yeah," she agrees softly. "I do."

With shining eyes, lit with happiness and love, he lifts her legs and slips beneath them, positioning her calves along his thighs. The movie begins, and his fingers knead the tight muscles, firm fingers pressed into warm flesh, working his way up the sides of her legs.

Kate settles back further into the cushions, allowing him to work his magic, loosening each muscle, with gentle pressure, small circles; his fingers knead with skill, and tight muscles become pliant under his touch. She has seen the film before, on this couch, a quiet evening not unlike this one, when he had needed to get out of his head for a while. Apparently it's supposed to have the same effect on her. But she can't concentrate on teenagers battling zombies in the woods.

She's growing weary of these close calls. She kisses him some mornings, when he stays behind to finish a chapter, and she wonders if she will be returning home that evening. Home, to his loft, to her own apartment where he sits waiting for her to return, to him, alive.

"Watch the movie, Kate," he murmurs, his fingers working their magic into her tired muscles.

"I'd rather watch you," she replies, her tone low, laced with seduction.

He's not buying her attempt to distract him with her husky tones. "Do it quietly then. I can hear you thinking."

"Can't switch my brain off," she admits, huffing softly in frustration.

His fingers trail up her thighs, dancing lightly upon her skin, tickling her gently. "I may be able to help with that."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. "You think you're just that good?"

He nods. "I know I am." He slides along the couch until her thighs are upon his, his fingers slipping under the tight fabric of her shorts. They're so short, so very short, that he's already brushing the tips of his fingers at the junction of her legs, dipping between her folds.

"Shit, Castle," she gasps, inhaling a sharp breath at the sensations his touch sends shooting through her.

He looks momentarily concerned and his fingers pause. "Legs okay?"

Mirth fills her eyes, bubbles out between her lips in a soft chuckle. "Legs I can deal with if you keep that up."

He looks down, his eyes flicking to his crotch.

"Not what I was referring to." She laughs freely then. "But while attention is diverted..." She sits up, pulling her body out of the cushions, and drags a fingernail up his thigh.

And then it all blurs, all becomes a rush of motion and need, as she helps drag his clothing from his body. The movie forgotten, all she can hear is the rustling of clothing, the soft sighs of fabric cast aside, slipping to the floor. Skin is exposed, and his lips journey across her lightly bronzed flesh, sucking and nipping, reveling in her warmth. Her_ life_. He's so careful of her legs, wary of fast movements, of tugging, straining, a muscle. Her eyes flutter shut, she can't focus, too caught up in emotions and sensations. The couch cushions shift beneath her as he moves, but his lips remain on her, his hands never losing contact,

She's sitting now, her spine curving with the back of the couch, Castle kneeling between her legs, kissing a path up her torso, trailing his tongue up her neck, her jaw, and everything else is drowned out, the television muted by a low buzz, the hum of love, created by his warm flesh sliding against hers.

His nose nudges her forehead, and his lips soon follow, pressing a warm kiss to her skin. Her stomach flutters at the contact, and she feels the tightening in her chest.

_Love. Love. Love._

His lips linger on her skin, and she leans into him, her arms snaking around his neck, her fingers sliding through his hair. Wrapped in his arms, fueled by pain, fueled by love, she shifts until his lips meet hers, and she kisses him - hard. Her hands slide from his hair, her fingertips grazing his temples, his cheeks, until she is cupping his face, her palms feeling the hint of stubble peppering his jaw.

_Love. Love. Love._

His tongue meets hers, wet and firm, slides past, sweeps into her hot, open mouth. He swallows down her moan; he kisses her like he almost just lost her, like he almost gave his own life to save hers, like he'll never let her go again.

Her back slides down the couch, slipping easily against the smooth fabric, until her hips balance precariously on the edge. She widens her legs, knees bent, raising up on the tips of her toes. It burns, sending pain shooting up her calves, but it's bearable now. He senses her pain and takes the weight off her legs by hitching them over his hips, her heels resting against his ass, and it's enough to offer her relief. While she adjusts to the new position, he slips easily inside her, her raised hips allowing for a smooth, deep penetration.

Between her legs, on his knees, he grips her hips, and tilts them up, just a little, just enough to change the angle. He slides in so deep he takes a moment to inhale a breath, to steady himself, grasp at a sliver of control before he loses himself in her, in the feel of himself so completely sheathed by her, the sensations of her muscles fluttering around him as her body adjusts.

Her arms reach up, behind, to grip the top of the couch above her head.

She wraps her legs tight around him, crossing her ankles and pressing her heels deep into his flesh. Her tight muscles protest, but she ignores it; there are enough endorphins flowing through her now to dull the pain.

And then, nothing hurts. He is holding her hips up, pulling her to him, and when he withdraws, slowly easing out of her, her entire body thrums in anticipation of what comes next. He thrusts - deep, sheathing himself completely within her. Her eyes close, and she inhales small, short, breaths, the friction of each of his thrusts, each roll of her own hips, warming her, shooting sparks of pleasure through her.

With each long thrust, slow withdrawal, with each rock, each roll of her hips, the friction increases and the warmth builds and builds until it floods over her. Her fingers claw at the couch behind her and every muscle tightens. She fills her lungs and holds the breath – and then she lets go. A burst of light fires out behind her closed eyelids, like lightning in a stormy night sky, illuminating a desolate landscape until the beauty and wonder makes her wonder how darkness ever held fear. A low sob escapes her lips, and her hips buck against his with each spasm of her muscles.

She whimpers sadly at the loss of him filling her when he pulls out and stands. Before she can argue, he's slipping his hands under her and lifting her off the couch.

"What the hell!" She swats his arm as he carries her. "Castle!" But her tone is filled with mirth.

"You love me," he reminds her, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "So deal with it, Kate."

She relaxes in his arms, naked, flushed skin molding to his. She ducks her head against his neck, pressing her lips to his skin. "I do," she agrees, her lips ghosting his pulse, feeling the steady beat of life beneath. "I love you, Castle"

He places her carefully on his bed, and eases down between her legs once more. "Love you too," he murmurs against her lips.

Her arms wrap around him, holding him close as he slips inside her once more, hits that elusive spot, again and again and again.

She's alive.

He's alive.

The teenagers on the TV in the next room? They wish they were so lucky.

* * *

_"She caught my eye, said don't you deny.  
Surround yourself with light  
She said  
Any day above ground is a good day  
Any moment alone with you  
Any day above ground is a good day and true."_ ~James Reyne

THANK YOU: To Brookemopolitan. I guess it's not the snugglefuck prompt you mentioned in JANUARY, but is snugglelove okay? And I hope the _Cabin in the Woods_ mention is enough to fill the Horror Movie prompt. Thank you, Brooke, for listened to my whining, for throwing endless advice at me, and for never being afraid to tell me to STFU and post it to ffnet. IT'S POSTED, OKAY? :p

THANK YOU: MARLOWE. OMG. _STILL_. OMG. ASDFGHJKL.

Oh, lovely fandom, reviews are not necessary. Just enjoy, 'kay?


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